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scifrey · 1 year

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Keepsakes

Status: Ongoing Ficlet collection; unbeta'd

Series: the Hob Adherent series

Fandom: The Sandman (TV 2022) Includes some comics canon, and some cameos from the wider Gaiman-verse (including the Good Omens and Lucifer television shows), but it’s not necessary to know to enjoy the story.

Rating: Mature-ish.

Warnings: Discussions of grief and in-canon character death. Some sexytimes. Some whomp and hurt/comfort.

Relationships: Morpheus | Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling, Eleanor | Hob Gadling’s Wife/Hob Gadling (past)

Characters: Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Hob Gadling, Patrick the Bartender, Harriet Butler, Matthew the Raven

Summary: Short ficlets set in the Hob Adherent world, based on prompts received from readers. Feel free to DM me or leave prompts in the comments, and if it resonates with me, I may write up a ficlet! Thank you for the inspiration in advance.

Set amid the events of Cling Fast and Carpe Diem

READ ON AO3 OR READ BELOW:

Postcards

"So, a sword in Buckingham's army, a bandit, a printer, a shipwright and then a merchant middleman for the dockyards, a knight, a beggar, investment broker--"

"Slaver," Hob interrupts Harriet as she counts off his professions on her fingers one slow, sunny afternoon at The New Inn. "Call the thing what it was."

Hari offers him a sympathetic smile. They're the only ones in the pub proper today, as Patrick is off to tend his ailing mother, Dee doesn't come in Mondays, and Morph is having lunch with his editor.

"After which you were an MP and staunch abolitionist, a soldier again in America for the North, an industrialist and labor rights advocate, a yuppie and silicone valley early adopter--"

"Apple paid for most of this," Hob agrees, selecting a glass and checking it for water spots or lipstick stains.

"--and now a professor and publican. Am I missing any?"

“Oh!” Hob remembers as he pulls a pint for her. "And I was ruler of Hell."

She leans across the bar from her stool, and thwacks his arm. “Fuck off, you were not, you old liar,” Hari laughs.

"Was so!" Hob protests, setting her beer down in front of her. "Ask my husband. He was there. I was ruler of Hell for thirteen minutes and seventeen seconds on my six-hundred and sixty-sixth birthday."

Hari raises a challenging eyebrow at Hob over her pint glass as she takes a sip. "I won't believe a thing the Prince of Stories tells me," she says decisively, when she sets the beer back down. "And I don't believe you."

Hob pulls a postcard from L.A. off the bar back, where it's been pinned to a corkboard among a handful of others, all from the same city. This card depicts a cartoon devil drawn over a photo of the Hills, lounging on the iconic Hollywood sign. It says "Greetings from Sin City!" in bright yellow font.

Hob hands it to Hari to inspect. Her face gets drawn as her eyes flick over the handwritten note on the back.

"To my fellow former ruler of Hell; I did it! I opened a nightclub, just like you suggested. Visit me at LUX any time you'd like, Hobsie. xxx Lucifer Morningstar," Hari reads in a voice that grows increasingly strangled.

She hands the card back to Hob with trembling fingers. Then she shotguns the rest of her pint.

"So hell is real, then," Hari warbles.

Hob shrugs. "Everything is real. Humans create gods, not the other way around. If someone believes in it, it exists."

Hari nods thoughtfully. "I suppose you would know, being married to a god."

Hob chuckles. "Well, former god-ish. And don't worry, only people who believe they deserve to go to Hell actually do. Self-punishment or fulfilling prophecy, or something. I try not to think to much about that Celestial stuff."

Hari nods again, and without asking, Hob refills her pint glass. He has a feeling she's going to need it.

"But it is something I'm going to have to worry about," Hari says softly, accepting the drink with a nod.

"Not any time soon, I hope," Hob says, folding his arms on the bar top and leaning close to offer her a comforting look. "And when it does happen, I can promise you that my sister-in-law is gentle and kind. You have nothing to worry about."

Harriet runs her arthritis gnarled finger up and down the side of the glass, collecting up the condensation. "You know, that is actually a comfort." She looks up at Hob with a wicked little grin. "Especially knowing your husband."

Hob throws his head back and laughs.

#losyark #cling fast adjacent #cling fast #carpe diem #the hob adherent series #hob adherent #hob gadling #hob x dream #dream x hob #dreamling fic #dream #dreamling #lucifer morningstar #lucifer #gaimanverse #sandman hob #retirement!Dream #keepsakes

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10moonymhrivertam · 11 months

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Piano

“D’you play?”

“...It falls under my purview. I am able. I do not...anymore.”

“Hm.”

“Hm?”

“Giving myself a point in our argument, is all.”

“...For the worse, perhaps.”

“Are you trying to bully my friend, saying he can’t change for the better? I’ll fight you. With wasters.”

“I suppose I have no choice but to yield. For now.”

#context: wasters are swords that are meant to break like wooden ones from a ren faire #(i believe i learned that from the hob adherent author)#yes i am correct this time #and it's losyark #dreamling #fic #dialogue #the sandman #sandman netflix #also i feel the need to clarify that hob is arguing that he can change at all #given that he usually tells himself that endless don't change and he's wrong if he does

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be-kind-recklessly · 1 year

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Fanart for chapter 4 of Losyark's Cling Fast, because this image popped into my head and did not disappear until i drew it.

#go read the fic its very good #the sandman #dreamling #my art

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windsweptinred · 11 months

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check out Cling Fast and the Hob Adherent series (by Losyark on AO3) for some good Hob/Eleanor content. Hob/Dream is the primary ship, but his relationship with Eleanor plays a fairly big role in the main story and is explored even more in some shorter ficlets. lots of great history details too. xo @hardly-an-escape

Oooo! Thank you so much! @tickldpnk8 tagging you in! 😁 Hopefully we can send some more fic recs your way!

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the-dreaming-library · 9 months

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Hello! I was wondering if you or any of The Collective Unconscious have any recs for fics where Job has mort friends who know or learn that he’s immortal? Thanks!

Hello!

I have a few fic recs for you where Hob has mortal friends who learn about his immortality.

Ancient Roots, New Growth by AceDragonType Words: 7360

Hob loved his current life, people were more accepting than ever, and apparently immortality was now a known phenomenon. So maybe it was finally time to settle down and stop changing his identity.

Or five times someone realized Hob was immortal, and one time he just came out with it.

Rated Gen, no warnings

(Hob decides to stop hiding his immortality now that such things are being accepted, and the mortals in his life become aware of his age)

Cling Fast by Losyark Words: 59576

Hob Gadling is a clingy bastard, and he’s not ashamed to admit it. He clings to life. He clings to hope. He clings to his love of humanity. He clings to his Stranger. He also, unfortunately, has a habit of clinging to his name.

Which means, when the BBC is looking for a new pet history expert to appear in their educational docudrama series “Elizabethan Manor,” they’re overjoyed to find a professor who (according to their meticulous research) is actually descended from the Master of the National Trust building they’re filming in - Gadlen House.

Only Hob knows how right they are.

Rated M, No Warnings

(Hob joins a historical documentary and makes new friends, some of whom discover who he really is)

The Uses of Adversity by MonstrousRegiment Words: 65825

Graphic Depictions of Violence

What led Hob Gadling — at the time known as Robert Stranger, because he’d been in a permanent state of pettiness from 1889 to about 1904 and now he was stuck with it — to the dank, cold, and dark basement of the Burgess house on March of 1957 was not so much coincidence or fate as it was curiosity.

Yeah. Cats isn’t the only thing it kills.

Alright, wait. Back up. Let’s start from the beginning.

It was 1957 and Hob Gadling was, by no action or choice of his own, sort of — it’s a bit embarrassing — a criminal master.

Not mastermind! He hadn’t planned any of it. Honestly.

Rated E

(Hob has a whole team of Mortals on his side as they plan a heist to rescue Dream. They learn about who and what he is along the way)

If anyone has any recs to add, please include them in the comments!

#the sandman #the dreaming library #the sandman fanfiction #the sandman fanfic #fic recs #ask

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alicerovai · 2 years

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(Cropped) pic inspired by this chapter from the “Rovaiverse”, a collection of fics by Losyark based on some of my Lokius drawings. This time, the author asked for a drawing to go with the chapter “Flirt”, which you can read here. Highly recommended! 👀 and if you want to see the full pic, it’s on my Patreon, together with other NSFW art - more NSFW Lokius is coming…

#lokius #alicerovai #Losyark #archive of our own #loki #mobius m mobius #marvel

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kahlualeia85 · 2 years

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I've wanted to make a LOKI fanfiction list for a while so here are a couple specific Loki Mobius fics:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/36109297/chapters/90014863

Wolf Ears Wolf Teeth by Kahlualeia85

What if Loki hadn’t left Mobius behind when he went after Sylvie in Roxxcart? This is a rewrite of the entire Loki TV show featuring Loki, Mobius, and Sylvie on an angsty jaunt through time. It features a full history for Mobius, an angry impulsive Sylvie, and some BAMF Loki. I love their journey from three untrustworthy damaged people to a cohesive team who work together to take down the TVA. Thor, Sif, and Val, as well as a host of my own Loki variants join them on their quest. This story features lots of Lokius, some SylviexThor if you squint, and Frost Giant genderfluid Loki.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/33414274/chapters/83001109

Lowkey Coffee by sir_not_appearing_in_this_archive

Loki is a the newest barista at Low-Key Coffee, being trained by his grumpy co-worker Sylvie, and trying to catch the eye of Mobius, the handsome detective who’s a regular at the shop—wait, no he isn’t. He’s the God of Mischief, a prince of Asgard, and he’s certainly not supposed to be wearing an apron. Somehow, everyone he knows has gotten trapped in this espresso-soaked nightmare, and Loki is the only one who remembers who they all really are.

https://archiveofourown.org/series/2461363

F-words by Losyark

This is a series of stories based around fanart and both art and writing are gorgeous.

https://archiveofourown.org/series/2469025

Where the Edges Began by RunnyYolk

Episode 3 AU and full canon rewrite. Loki follows Sylvie through the time door, but it doesn't result in the Roxxcart Divorce. The depth of the TVA's lies are unraveled from the inside instead as Loki and Mobius stumble their way into a real trusting partnership...and more.

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lokiusficrecs · 3 years

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Fold

https://archiveofourown.org/works/33180379

Folded up under blankets as he recovers, struggling with the questions of how to fold his new identity into his understanding of himself, where Loki really wants to be is folded into the arms of the confused and hurting human who has saved his life... and whom he wants to save in return.

Author: Losyark

Rating: Teen and Up

Word Count: 6,595

#Lokius #Mobius #loki #fanfic #teenandup #10k #hurtcomfort #thor1 #Jotunheim #Jotunform #oneshot #preslash #postseasonone #mindcontrolled #toture #touchstarved #injury #sharingabed

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scifrey · 3 months

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NINE-TENTHS

Twenty-four is one year too young for a quarter-life crisis, but hey, Colin's always been an overachiever. He's got a degree in Sustainable Tourism, which his family says he's wasting as a barista, an annoying anxiety disorder, and no freaking idea what to do with his life.

The only thing going his way is the cute coffee shop regular, a homo draconis named Dav (who, in his humanshape, is a total hottie.) Still, it'd be easier if Dav didn't have a habit of accidentally setting things on fire when he's startled. Like the café kitchen.

When Dav breaks draconic taboo and volunteers as a replacement bean-roaster to apologize for the inferno meet-ugly, sparks really fly. Everything's finally happening for Colin, until he learns that hooking up with Dav means that under dragon law, Colin is absorbed into Dav's hoard.

Possession may be nine-tenths of the law, but becoming his boyfriend's property does not make this whole identity crisis thing easier. Especially now that Colin must navigate politics, paparazzi, and legal questions about his personhood. Colin's still angling for his Happily Ever After, but the growing scrutiny on his relationship with Dav threatens their budding romance.

And if he's not careful, Colin's fight for agency may just destroy symbiotic human/dragon relationships worldwide.

🐉☕❤️

A sassy, queer, alternate universe romance from Publishers Weekly's Best Books of 2011 author J.M. Frey. Wrapped in discussions of autonomy and colonialism, Nine-Tenths meets in the middle between Red, White & Royal Blue and the Temeraire series.

🐉☕❤️

Part One

There's this thing in stories called the "inciting incident".

And mine? It's a goddamn doozy.

It’s the part of the book, right at the start, where the lovers have their meet-cute, the farm boy leaves for the wider world, the Chosen One is attacked by her first evil monster, blah, blah, blah. You know what I mean. It's the place where everything opens up and you have no idea what you're in for—only that it'll be exciting.

I know all about Inciting Incidents because I was going to be a writer.

No, I thought I was going to be a writer. Historical romance, that’s my jam. Dukes, rakes, windblown-gowns, dropped handkerchiefs, cliffside confessions—I am a slut for that stuff. Forget real history (totally flunked ‘We’re-Feeding-You-Colonialist-Narratives-Disguised-As-Education’ 101). Give me made-up kingdoms and far-flung pirates. Give me the fantasy of a happily ever after that lasts beyond ‘the end’. Give coffee and stories, and I am a content boy.

But right before he got sick, in the summer between my first and second year of university, my Dad and I had a serious talk about writing. How much work it is. How long it takes to start paying off. Backup plans.

And then… after, I thought, well, he wasn’t wrong. If life was going to be pointlessly, stupidly, cruelly short, then I should spend my time trying to do something good, right? I switched majors. Science makes sense. Science is logical. Science creates vaccines and saves lives. Science can bring species back from the brink of extinction. Science doesn’t break your heart.

All of this is to say that I can—with complete and utter certainty—point to the exact moment when my life became a trash fire. It was my twenty-fourth birthday, and my big sister Gemma gave me the dumbest, but totally plot-inciting gift: a sunrise alarm clock.

The Incident starts like this, in Mum’s pokey poppies-and-roosters kitchen, with Gemma leaning on the back of my chair:

"I have a perfectly good alarm clock." I hold up my phone, then let it slap back down onto the plastic tablecloth. "Goes ding when there's stuff."

My sister heaves the kind of sigh only eldest-born siblings make, indulgent and frustrated at the same time. I love making her make that noise. It's hilarious.

"It wakes you up gently," Gem says. "So you’re not cranky."

"I’m not cranky in the mornings."

Everyone laughs. I may have snapped at Stuart this morning when he shook my foot through my childhood bed sheets like an aggressive chihuahua. Okay. So I'm cranky in the mornings.

"I don't see how it's supposed to work." Stu grabs the clock. "How can you see the light if your eyes are closed?"

As the younger brother of twin siblings, I am used to having the toys I’m playing with pulled out of my hands. Instead of trying to snatch it back, I fiddle with the iridescent green bow that was on my present, then stick it to my ear. Mum smirks at my accessory, but otherwise her prim little 'all my babies are home to roost' face stays in place.

I'm the only one of us who went away to school, and stayed away. Gem came back to live with Mum straight after she finished her undergrad, so Mum wouldn't be alone in the house. Stuart never left the city, though he's got his own place now. But that's why I stayed away after I graduated last year. Mum and Gem don't need me, and if I came back, Stu would try to get me to join his crew.

I go weak in the knees for the kind of person jacked enough to pick me up and consensually throw me around. Standing on a roof next to a whole crew of pretty roughs trying to help them replace shingles? That's gonna lead to me swooning and dying of a broken neck. Stu doesn’t want that on his conscience.

Because she's a bossy know-it-all, Gem takes my present from Stu and opens it to show me how it works. She huffs. "You can see sunlight through your eyelids. It just works, okay?"

Stu helps himself to another piece of my birthday cake, licking the icing off his fingers and the serving knife. Mum slaps the hand holding the knife, and Stu flushes up and sets it down. He descends on his third piece like a wolf, but at least now he's watching his manners.

"There's an instruction manual," I point out as Gem tosses the booklet on the table.

"The day you read the instructions," Mum says, "is the day I'll know for sure the fairies really swapped you."

It's an old joke, being the Changeling child. I'm the only one of them with dark hair. The rest of my family are blond as heck.

Mum’s grinning into that little curl in the side of her mouth that holds secrets. Dad always called it Mum's 'Peter Pan Kiss’. He'd wrap his arms around her waist and kiss that corner, and Mum would swat at him for ruining her lipstick.

Thinking about Dad reminds me he's dead.

I hate the swoop-and-stab sensation in my chest that comes with remembering. Especially when there's a moment you want to share, and you turn your head to his chair and start composing the sentence in your head: "Hey, Mum's doing that—" and then you stop.

You stop composing. Stop turning. Stop thinking about sharing. Stop breathing.

Because that chair is empty.

Dad's dead.

And you'll never get the chance to point out the Peter Pan kiss again. Or watch Mum swat him. Or listen to him tease us for falling for Mum's Old World fairy stories. Or hear his stupid har-har-har donkey laugh, thick with his French accent.

It's my birthday.

He's not here.

I'll have another birthday, next year, and he won't be there for that one either.

I try to control my breathing, but Mum hears it hitching. I'm already staring at Dad's terrible empty chair, so it's not like I can hide what I'm thinking about. Mum curls her fingers over my knuckles.

"I wish he was here too, mo leanbh," she says softly.

Stu and Gem go quiet.

"Sucks," I cough out, deciding to give no one the pleasure of watching me actually cry. I'll save it for later, when I'm back in my own apartment. Not because of any kind of 'real men don't' toxic masculinity bullshit, but because I hate the fuss. They take the shit my therapist tells them about being my support network too much to heart.

"More tea, Mummers?" I ask instead.

"Time for something stronger, don't you think?"

Next Part | Read on Wattpad

Trailer Music: "A Thousand Years" by The Piano Guys Cover Art: @seancefemme

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